


The Merits of Teaching

by alsointogiraffe



Category: Bandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:41:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alsointogiraffe/pseuds/alsointogiraffe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard hopes that getting hired at another new high school (after getting fired from two others) will end with success. Third time’s a charm, he likes to think. While he hopes to make a good impression on his new coworkers, new boss, and new students, he meets Brendon, a fellow Spanish teacher, and they instantly click. Can their common love of Spanish (and Shakira) blossom into another kind of love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Merits of Teaching

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm kind of ridiculously in love with Spanish, to the degree that I ended up writing 10k of self-indulgent fluff about it. (Though it was also partially due to the thought of Gerard being fluent in Spanish. Rolling his R’s, using ridiculous slang terms--hearts in my eyes, you guys, seriously. I am horribly in love with the language.)
> 
> In writing this fic, I did what I could to be politically correct. My Spanish teachers and possibly Tumblr have successfully pounded into my brain the proper use of “Spanish” as an adjective describing people from Spain, the fact that America encompasses more than just the United States, and the correct spelling of Colombia. Even so, it’s possible I’ve missed something. I don’t mean to offend anyone, and given my love for Spanish, I’m always excited to learn more, so don’t hesitate to be like, “Hey, no, that’s not quite right.” 
> 
> For podfic, art, and a mixtape, check it out on [livejournal](http://alsointogiraffe.livejournal.com/29599.html).

The interview takes place on a gray, rainy day, but Gerard figures the interviewer’s attitude makes up for it. He’s a short guy with a wide smile that talks loud and laughs a lot. He introduces himself as Pete Wentz, sits down, and stares at Gerard for a minute before asking any questions.

When Principal Wentz _does_ start asking questions, very few feel directly relevant to the job Gerard is applying for. They’re not about his experience, or failure (there’s a lot of that, he sometimes thinks). Wentz seems to care less about the fact that Gerard is qualified and more about his favorite activities, a lot of what-if situations, and creativity-based questions. The good thing is that Gerard can’t say he has any problems with the questions, because he’s a creative person. It doesn’t seem to take long before he’s on Wentz’s good side.

“I like you,” he says. “You’re cool. You’ll be hearing from me.”

“Oh,” Gerard says, because it hasn’t quite sunken in that he probably got the job. He says after a moment, “Oh! Oh--okay. Thanks!” and stands up from his chair before shaking the principal's hand and sort of stumbling out of the office. He can hear the principal laughing when he gets out and wonders momentarily to himself if he’ll actually call. 

The office door shuts and he kind of whimpers to himself, “ _Oh_ ,” because he’s not really sure.

: :

Gerard went to school for like a million years, including college, and he’s studied Spanish for maybe half a million years, since probably the sixth grade. He wasn’t _good_ at it, though, until his junior year of high school, when he finally started caring about school in general and realized that maybe he liked the language. 

College alone felt like a million years, even though it was only four. Spanish took over his life once he finally committed to it--which took a lot of convincing, because he’s indecisive and didn’t want to make the wrong decision. He decided to get a minor in the language, and he discovered suddenly an entire culture he never knew about. It was no longer just a class--it was a lot more than that. He went to Mexico for his semester abroad and to Spain on his own. Travelling, as far as learning Spanish is concerned, was more helpful than anything else. 

Learning was often hard, because he didn’t really like reading books, but had to read a lot of them. In the end, he forced himself to, but he likes to think it paid off. Even so, he always spent a lot more time listening to music, and studying the cultures of different countries. He loved learning the little mechanical details of the language, about different accents, word origins, and slang. 

He just hated doing it in class. Most of his learning happened outside of a classroom, which is why he always thought it was ironic that he chose to become a Spanish teacher. He decided that if he hated the classes, though, he would change them to make other people love them.

People just don’t seem to understand that, is all.

: :

A week and a half after his interview, Principal Wentz amazingly _does_ call Gerard, which brings him eventually to his first day of school, September 7 at 8:00 am sharp. He gets in an hour and a half early--less because he has no life and more because he's genuinely _nervous_. He's starting a new year at a new high school, and this isn't the first time he's found himself in such a predicament.

Or the second time.

It's generally because he's an "unconventional" teacher, one whose "enthusiasm" and "dedication" interferes frequently with his "teaching of the curriculum." He never denies the statements, though he's beginning to think that if he did, he maybe wouldn't be teaching in his third school in, you know, three years.

He's so nervous.

His problem--and he did tell Wentz this during their interview, because he felt the need to be frank--is that the curriculum always _sucks_. He really truly does say this to him ("Seriously--fucking sucks. Oh. Oh God. Okay--I remember where the door is. I'm just going to go now.") and, shockingly, the principal sort of agreed wholeheartedly.

("Don't touch that door! The curriculum _does_ fucking suck. You're completely right. I figure if it were actually any good, our language rates would be higher. Do you know how bad our reputation with languages is? We need someone to fix this."

Gerard didn't need to hear anything else before a grin erupted on his face and he announced with pride, "Well, Mr. Wentz, I think I'm the man for the job.")

He gave Gerard what appeared to be some leeway with the curriculum. And the job. 

And here Gerard is now. He has his third cup of coffee and a vague plan, and he is _horribly_ nervous.

: :

He won't deny his biggest fear--that the other teachers, his _coworkers_ , will hate him. (His old fear was originally that the students would hate him, but he's since realized that high schoolers hate approximately everything, and when they do hate him, it’s nothing to take personally.) Teachers hate him a lot, it seems, for actually liking his job or something, and for really trying to teach Spanish as a language, as a culture, as something more than just a class.

These past teachers, Gerard thinks, were just jealous, because his students--the same ones that hated everything--kind of vaguely liked him, which was a major accomplishment, he likes to think. Teachers liked to yell at him for ignoring the textbook a lot and bringing in cheesy 80's movies in Spanish (that took him _months_ to find, thanks), and teachers _loved_ to rat him out for it and get him fired.

These new teachers, Gerard quickly learns, are different. These teachers share, more or less, the same passion as his own. They all enjoy their job most of the time, and they're nice. They're like this big interconnected group of friends, which is weird, because his other schools were never this friendly. He shows up on the first day and at lunch some guy named Spencer shows him to the language office where he is greeted by, like, eight different teachers and a box of Dunkin Donuts. The Italian teacher, Frank, is kind of like, "You can quit drooling and eat one of them. I already had probably three, if it's worth anything," and Gerard just sort of nods and wonders if he's dreaming.

Frank goes ahead and introduces him to the other language teachers, a couple more Italian ones, and French, and Latin, and then the Spanish teachers, Gerard's favorites, and he maybe stops dead in his tracks when he sees the most attractive Spanish teacher ever, and wonders, again, if he's dreaming. The guy bounces where he is a couple of times and grins and introduces himself as Brendon and then just kind of vibrates in place. He grins wider and says, "Happy to meet you. Pete said you were something special. I can't wait to get to talk to you about Spanish. Always looking for new ideas."

Gerard nods, says, "Yeah, of course," and stands there and does nothing, wondering vaguely how long Brendon has known the principal to be using a first name basis with him. Knowing the principal, probably not long. Brendon bounces a couple more times, and Gerard does his best to socialize and not just completely drool over him like a high schooler. After a long moment, Brendon finally excuses himself for another donut and then to get back to teaching, or doing his job, or whatever it is that he has to do.

: :

It's decided before Gerard realizes it that this is going to be his riskiest year yet, as far as rule-following goes. On the first few days in class, he gauges how long the students in each section have been taking Spanish and how good they are at it. (Not very, as it turns out, and this proves consistent in every block. Gerard maybe wants to cry when someone in the highest level, year five A.P., announces that she listens to music " _todas las días_ ").

He also asks how much they enjoy it. They hate it, if the chorus of laughter upon asking the question is worth anything. He realizes he has his work cut out for him and knows that a lot of rules are probably going to get broken along the way.

: :

He talks to Brendon again at lunch on his second day of work. He's more composed, while Brendon is just as energetic as before and laughs as Gerard announces while sipping a coffee, "This might be mission impossible." He learns that this is Brendon's second year teaching, and that he understands, apparently, the stress in trying to teach a group of 500-some 14 to 18 year-old Americans that it's worth their time to become bilingual.

Gerard voices to Brendon, and then later to his classes, his theory, the one where language classes have been the most boring thing since the beginning of time, since languages existed, you know, and how he wants to maybe change the world and make everyone understand the need to be bilingual. It's turned into a speech, a mantra, that you can learn whichever language you please, at your own pace, and fluency isn't an impossible task. He talks about how he decided to become a Spanish teacher when he realized how stupid he looked not knowing it and going to foreign countries having to admit, "Me no hablo es-pan-yul."

His students laugh, but thankfully, unlike his other schools, don't reply with their own, "But we're _American_!" defense--the scariest, most devastating thing that Gerard hears working as a language teacher. They don't open right up to the idea of really learning a language, but they don't seem to hate it, either. Or him. The not hating him thing is really a plus. 

When Gerard tells Brendon about his speech, his plan, his dreams and all that nonsense, Brendon smiles wide, laughs, says, "You're so cute," and agrees that Gerard has the right intentions. He continues, "You're probably going to accomplish what I've been trying to do for a year now," he says. "You'll have to teach me everything you know." 

Gerard's cheeks are red hot and he feels like he's going to melt.

: :

It's fun to teach Spanish with music, movies, interesting articles, and hands-on activities, so that's the type of stuff that Gerard implements. In the lower curriculum classes, they do art projects--making their own picture books in Spanish and all the works. There are always activities that the high schoolers try to deny enjoying, but when else do they get the chance to relax and color and learn Spanish at the same time? Secretly, he knows they love it.

In his higher classes, he brings in Shakira songs and rap and every genre of music in Spanish ever because no one should be forced to listen to one type of music (though he would admittedly listen to Juanes and Shakira forever). But he doesn't do any of that lyrics fill-in bullshit, because that nonsense is stressful, he explains, even for him, and "Do you guys always understand songs lyrics in English? Didn't think so." He just makes them look up the lyrics and a few of the words they don’t know, and then write a couple of paragraphs on one aspect of the song or another.

("I don't care what it's about as long as it's in Spanish and vaguely related to the song. You can tell me that you want to chuck my music selection onto the ground and burn it--and laugh at my despair--as long as it's _en español_.")

He makes the really advanced classes, his secret favorites (along with his baby Spanish classes, because they're fresh minds who haven't been tainted with a hate for the language, or upperclassmen who have already taken another language and actually understand the enjoyable aspect of learning them), bring in newspaper articles in Spanish. Sometimes it’s hard, he's learned, to give everyone a voice in the class, but he's getting better at it. He splits people up into groups and they discuss the articles, or they go around the room and talk.

Everyone has to talk in his classes, is the rule. Everyone needs a voice, he explains, to get better at speaking. He doesn't like forcing people to talk, because some kids are shy, so he balances it out by handing out limited oral grades because "It's hard to judge your abilities since they all develop at different rates. Just talk--it goes into your participation grade. You could give me some bullshit about the weather and I'll take it over silence." He has to force it out of some kids, which he always feels bad doing, but he swears, he's really encouraging about it, and students grow to like him, and soon it's hard to make sure that only one person is talking at a time.

: :

Gerard’s cell phone policy is simple: if he sees it, it’s his for the rest of the class. It’s probably the only rule he enforces, which is probably due to the fact that he’s never been big on texting, and he knows from experience that you can’t multitask easily with a phone in your hand. He has a hawk eye for phones that students gape over. He knows all the strategies--below the desk, in the backpack, under a jacket--all of them. He figures teenagers just assume that as long as they _try_ to make it subtle, they succeed. They don’t, is the thing, and they quickly realize this.

Weird as it is, you know, he expects students to do their work. Texting to him is basically the same as saying _I’m bored_ , so he tries to engage students so that they don’t feel inclined to text. Still, he manages maybe one or two phones a day, which isn’t terribly many for a high school.

One thing he sometimes _does_ allow (but will never admit) is letting students do their homework for other classes. The part that makes things worse is that he knows he’s selective about it. If there’s a student who consistently does well in his class and pays attention and participates, but just once happens to _forget_ that they had homework for another class, he lets it slide. He’s been there before, as a teenager, and there’s nothing worse than the teacher stopping you. If it’s a student who gets poorer grades, though, and never focuses to begin with, and Gerard knows from their habits in his class that they simply _procrastinated_ on their homework, he’s less forgiving. He calls them out in class and, if the behavior is consistent, will pull them aside after class.

He figures, in general, though, that a student doing their homework probably isn’t bored as much as they might be stressed, or something. He tries to believe in giving them the benefit of the doubt. He likes to think it doesn’t make him a bad teacher, per se. Just an understanding one.

: :

Gerard realizes quickly that he has _feelings_ for Brendon, the stupid kind that the little freshmen get over each other every other day. He thinks it will pass, so he shakes it off immediately and reminds himself to be professional. They bounce new classroom ideas back and forth during lunch every day, talking about their progress, troubleshooting their errors, and the funny thing is that they both enjoy it, and look forward to it. "We get _way_ into our jobs," Brendon says one day after a twenty minute discussion on Juanes and his accent in relation to "understandability."

"No kidding," Gerard says, and then, "But Juanes _is_ easy to understand," because if he lets Brendon change the topic, he basically loses the argument.

"Not compared to Shakira," Brendon replies. "Shakira is, like, the perfect Spanish speaker."

"You think she's the perfect everything. Anything compared to her is unsatisfactory to you."

"And? You don't agree? She's a Colombian goddess. If I had those hips--man." Brendon stands up to take his mug back to the pot of coffee. He shakes his hips a couple of times and his shirt rides up with the movement, exposing enough skin to make Gerard close his eyes tight and pretend to ignore it. Brendon pours his coffee, singing " _Las caderas no mienten_ " under his breath. He returns to the table and sits down. "I'd be able to seduce the world into learning Spanish." He waggles his eyebrows a few times and Gerard lets out a choked laugh.

He decides that maybe he should just blame Shakira for all of his problems.

: :

 _El Día de Muertos_ is undoubtedly Gerard’s favorite holiday _ever_. He likes death and skulls and art and the story behind it all and the ideas it still carries today. Because of that, he knows it would be unfair to his students as well as himself not to do something to celebrate it when it comes around. On November second, he brings in, like, half of his art supply closet. He has each of his classes do something related to the holiday. 

He hates the idea of using cookie-cutter projects, where students do the exact same thing every time, in every class, so he tries to change things up between classes. Whether he can help it or not, most of the projects _do_ involve sugar skulls and _calacas_ and skeletons, his favorite things in the world. He has one class decorate their skulls with markers. Another class does some more cutting and makes skulls in a cutout snowflake kind of way.

Regardless, everyone does something different, and he’s super excited about all of them, and sort of, you know, spends an hour arranging them all on the part of the wall that’s still empty. 

(Gerard is the kind of person that does not appreciate blank wall space. He had his walls filled up promptly within a month, and he wishes sometimes that everyone would do the same.)

He does this at lunch time, so it’s no surprise that Brendon comes in. He sees all the art supplies and nearly _squeaks_ with excitement, and looks at Gerard with wide eyes that are begging him for a sugar skull. So, he and Brendon spend the second half of their lunch cutting out and coloring in a huge one. Brendon asks him a million questions about how he became so good at drawing. Gerard tells him the long story about the one time he almost considered art school, and Brendon listens to every word he says.

He compliments Gerard a million more times and helps him hang up their sugar skull (which is “ _absolutamente fantástico_ ,” according to Brendon), and runs quickly back to his class because suddenly, they’re running late.

The next day, even though the students are a little less excited about it than they were the art, Gerard decides he should probably incorporate the art into something that actually teaches them something. He gives the classes a brief history of _El Día de Muertos_ , trying to keep it lively and not put them to sleep. He keeps it short, and then, to balance out the lack of Spanish used when doing the art projects, he gives his classes short, graded writing assignments to go along with them.

He makes the questions appropriate in difficulty for each level of Spanish, ranging from, “What is _your_ favorite holiday and why?” to, “Based on what we’ve learned in class, what, culturally, makes _El Día de Muertos_ such a unique holiday?” He realizes later that he probably should have done the work first and the art project afterward, but accepts that it’s too late now, and jots down in his little battered notebook a reminder to do that next year. 

: :

Gerard's favorite student is an A.P. kid named Patrick who asks him one day what his favorite Spanish expression is, and the next day comes in with a list of his own and has stolen Gerard's heart forever (after Brendon--but Gerard will deny that, and that's in a whole different sense of thievery anyway). He promised himself when he started teaching that he wouldn't pick favorites, because it wasn't a fair thing to do. Just because a student has a better grade or is more dedicated doesn't mean they deserve his attention any more than the kid who wants to learn but still needs a lot of work. Favoritism isn't fair, but Patrick is just the perfect student if there were such a thing.

Gerard makes Patrick an exception and tries not to act too excited when telling him his favorite tongue twisters one afternoon. 

Patrick always does his homework, and asks questions about the articles they read, and always speaks Spanish, and then, later on in the year, asks Gerard to write his college recommendation. Gerard beams and says he would be honored to.

: :

Gerard's least favorite student is an honor’s year four kid named Gabe. He doesn't feel guilty about having a least favorite student. He used to, but he's learned that some students are just assholes. It still doesn't mean he entirely hates them as people. He's just saying, by calling them his least favorites, that class would be a lot easier if, you know, they had decided to take French or Italian instead. 

Gabe is fluent in Spanish, which Gerard was excited about in the beginning of the year, because the kids that are fluent, whether they mean to or not, always have something new to bring to the table, be it an expression, or vocabulary, or slang. The problem with the fluent kids is that they all took Spanish because they assumed it would be easy. Gerard talks to them about assumptions ("An ass of you and me, you guys, seriously. I don't _want_ to make you come after for extra help, but I don't think these grades are pleasing either of us right now."). It's not an easy A for them. It's _harder_ for them, because they're trying to apply terms to things they've been saying forever, which is sometimes harder than learning as they go along.

Gabe doesn't even try to learn, which also doesn’t help. He slacks and ignores the homework and doesn’t come for extra help and then he fails all of the quizzes and tests and then he gets angry with Gerard. It makes Gerard mad, too, because he doesn’t _mind_ staying to help--it’s kind of something he signed up to do. He doesn’t _like_ to see Gabe fail, but he can’t do the work _for_ him. That’s not to say Gabe hasn’t tried to have Gerard do all his work. And Gerard almost did, just once--and it was an accident, because Gabe is a conniving student, and Gerard is a sucker for the conditional tense.

One thing that pisses Gabe off is the fact that Gerard, grammatically, has a better grasp over the language than him. “I went to college,” Gerard presses. “If you become an English major, you’ll know English better.” Gabe just rolls his eyes a lot and swears in Spanish a lot and Gerard tends to exploit him to teach the class culture. 

(“Swears are important to learn. If you ask for directions and someone tells you to fuck off, don’t you think you deserve to know?” He’s really good at teaching swears because it gives him a chance to, you know, swear a lot. He gets really into the swearing thing. It’s still Spanish, he figures. It’s knowledge, and knowledge is power.)

Gabe tells Gerard to fuck off a lot. It’s in Spanish, though, so Gerard doesn’t really mind. He just reminds Gabe that if he fucks off, everyone will fail the final, and then lots of people would be mad at him. And also, nobody would know Spanish then, and Gerard can’t let that happen.

: :

It’s on a Friday that the Italian teacher, Frank, talks to Gerard at lunch, since Brendon is out. Gerard tries not to question his absence (whether he’s sick or skipping or has some teaching seminar or if his dog died or if his uncle died or maybe his parents died and is it even ethical to ask when he gets back and what is he going to do when he asks anyway and Brendon hates him?) and instead talks to Frank.

He doesn’t mean for the conversation to change into one about languages, one about the differences between Italian and Spanish, pronunciation, which is easier to learn, and all of that. And he doesn’t realize he’s changed it from a conversation about Italian and Spanish to one about everything he’s recently talked about with Brendon.

He legitimately doesn’t realize until Frank has his head buried in his hands on the table, cracking up. Gerard tilts his head and asks obliviously, “What?”

Frank lifts his head up and grins widely, declaring, “You totally love Brendon!”

“What?” Gerard repeats, and then, more frantically, “No, no, no, no. You’re wrong. I don’t love anyone. Brendon is cool, but no. No--not at all. He loves Shakira.” 

“You could try to pass for Shakira,” Frank says, and then starts giggling all over again.

“Ha,” Gerard says dryly and rolls his eyes and tries not to murder Frank or cry. 

Frank just laughs harder, for a long time, and then says with a wink, “I see the resemblance,” and continues on laughing. Finally, once he’s calmed down and made Gerard red enough, he says, grinning, “No, yeah, in all honesty, it wouldn’t even be necessary to look like her. I know Brendon. He wouldn’t, like, say no--if you asked him out, you know. He likes you, too.”

Gerard lets out a strangled, “No,” and clutches his coffee mug tighter. “No, he doesn’t like me. He likes Shakira and probably other girls and you’re wrong and I’m running late.” He stands up and shoves his chair in awkwardly. He sets his mug near the sink and shuffles to the door, not turning back to look at Frank’s smug face. 

: :

It’s probably halfway through the school year that Gerard truly learns what the scariest part of teaching is: bullying. And not him getting bullied, for the record. That doesn’t happen much, and when it does, he’s pretty good about it. 

(“Why are you being such a bitch about this?” a student asked him once.

“Because I want to see you succeed. Also, that’s _puta_ to you, and a trip to the office.”)

It’s when the students get bullied that he gets worried, because no one deserves to be bullied and when it’s not entirely obvious, it’s hard to just step up and be like, “See me after school!” because he generally needs probable cause to do that. 

In his year two class, there’s this girl, Greta, who is horribly shy. And then there’s this kid, Alex Greenwald, who is one of his least favorite students. And sometimes, in the halls, he sees them near each other. And sometimes he sees Alex walking away from Greta and Greta looking like she might cry, and Gerard has to ask himself if that’s probable cause and if he has the right to ask her if she’s okay and if he’s going to get in trouble for _not_ asking.

He doesn’t have to wonder for long, considering one day, in class, Alex almost slaps her right there, after calling her an asshole. And she stands up and starts saying how it wasn’t her that spread some rumor or another, that it was her sister, and that _he_ was the asshole. And then she runs out of the room and Gerard wonders briefly to himself why they don’t learn to handle situations like these in college, because he is _so_ unprepared for this.

He can’t just sit there and do nothing, though, so he steps outside and Greta is leaning against the wall about to start crying and Gerard is standing there, nervously wondering what he should say--if there’s anything he could say--that would make her feel better. He says awkwardly, “I can get him suspended for you.”

“You don’t have to,” Greta says, and sniffles loudly.

“I kind of have to either way,” he replies, and feels more awkward. He debates going into one of those speeches, the “You should have told someone!” kind, and settles instead with, “Um, I’m going to walk him down to the office. Come back in when you’re ready? I hope you don’t, like, hate me for letting that happen.” 

“It’s not your fault,” she says, rolling her eyes and continuing, “My sister doesn’t know how to shut her mouth. I don’t think she realized everyone thought I said it and I don’t think she _cares_ that I’m getting all the backlash for it.” Gerard vaguely wonders what _it_ is, exactly, that her sister said, or whatever, but refrains from asking.

He says instead, “That kind of stuff passes. I think something like that happened to me every other day in high school. Give it a week. People’s attention spans are shorter than you’d think.”

Greta just laughs to herself and rolls her eyes again, and says with resignation, “I guess so. We’ll see.”

Gerard nods, makes sure she’s okay (and is beyond relieved she is, because really, he has _no_ idea what he’s doing), and goes inside to deal with Alex, because he’s a lot better with that kind of thing. The kid is taken to the office, and the suspension that he receives comes as little surprise, and Gerard hopes that’s the end of things. He knows that it doubtfully is, but he also knows that in a high school, it’s fairly difficult to get the entire picture of what’s going on without asking students, but that would break every rule ever, so he just has to kind of sit back and hope that if something happens, kids will tell him.

But he’s also realistic and knows they won’t.

: : 

One day, because Gerard sometimes feels like he talks about himself too much, he asks Brendon what made him decide to become a Spanish teacher. He thought he had asked him before, but realizes that he hadn’t when Brendon mentions living in _Argentina_ and Gerard was like, “No kidding? _When_?”

“Well,” Brendon says, “during a semester abroad in college.” He pauses, purses his lips and says, “I went back to South America a little later. Did some volunteer work teaching English in Ecuador and Colombia.”

“Hence your love for Shakira.”

Brendon shrugs and says, “It didn’t hurt.” 

Gerard asks, trying to keep the conversation going, “What brought you back to the states?”

“Good question,” Brendon says, laughing kind of awkwardly. “I left originally for my semester abroad, you know, as kind of a rebellious act against my parents. They were Mormon and I, uh, wasn’t. And they were mad and didn’t want to see me--it’s not like they hated me, though--it was just spur of the moment and--I don’t know. But I was like, ‘Okay, fine,’ and I left. And then I kind of, you know, fell in love with South America. I came back to the United States and felt spoiled.”

Gerard nods and says, “Of course,” because he understands.

“So, I went to Ecuador and it was just _great_. The kids were great, and it was fun. I got to go to the Galápagos Islands, and I went to the Amazon once. And then I went to Colombia, and it was a great experience, too, but I don’t know.” Brendon shrugs and says, “I guess I got kind of homesick. My parents, you know, had time to deal with my non-religiousness, and I had time to mature, or whatever, and learn to love my parents anyway. Something like that. Either way, it was a nice experience, but I like it here, too.”

“It sounds like it was a tough decision.”

“Absolutely,” Brendon says. “I hope to go back to South America, you know, maybe over the summer. Maybe we could start an exchange program there. I don’t know--I’ve got a lot of ideas. This is my home for now, though. I love Spanish and I love teaching it. It’s nice to make a difference in these kid’s lives, too. Any difference is a difference. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Gerard says. He knows the conflicted feeling himself, how it feels to want to be in two places at once, to want to make a difference for everyone. “It makes complete sense.”

: :

The thing Gerard hates most about his job is grading papers.

He hates it, and he has to do it basically every day. He believes in instant feedback, because what’s the point of getting a test back two months later, when everyone has forgotten the content anyway, and the only important thing is apparently the grade at the top? More kids come for help when they get their work back soon after completing it, so Gerard braces himself and does as much as he can as soon as he can.

He tends to it at ten at night while watching shitty reality shows on TV, and it’s never fun. The tests are the worst, specifically the bad grades he has to sometimes give out. Good kids will put the wrong answers and he’ll just sit there for a while with his head in his hands wondering whose fault the mistakes are--if he even taught the material on it, or if he just taught it the wrong way, or what. Kids will put _really_ wrong answers and he’ll just repeat, “Oh my God, oh my God,” over and over and remind himself to go over the mistakes when he gives back the tests.

He hates giving out tests in general, but those were the one thing he couldn’t really negotiate with Principal Wentz. They really are the only way to gauge whether or not kids are paying attention in class, but they’re a terrible way of gauging how good a kid actually is with the language. He’s come across kids who are great at the language, kids who speak it well and understand it well, but buckle under the pressure of a test, or just simply can’t write well, or need to strengthen their grammar, or this, or that. He tries to put variety in his tests, but they never end up benefiting everyone.

After going through and grading the tests, he has to actually hand them back and watch students get upset with him. He’s had to deal with, more than once, students who argue that his tests are unfair and tricky. He can’t reply, “Then why did everyone else do well on it?” and he can’t just say, “Nuh-uh,” like a five-year-old. He has to bite his tongue, apologize, and offer to go over the test after school and help the students prepare better for the next one. The kids that always fail, though, never want to do that, and so then they fail on the next test. It’s a frustrating cycle.

: :

"I'm going to a Juanes concert this Saturday," Brendon announces one afternoon during lunch. "And no one wants to come with me. Which is utterly shocking given this country’s love for Spanish--I know. I was wondering if you'd go _conmigo_?" He beams and says, before getting a response from Gerard, "I figured we could analyze Juanes's accent in real life and then maybe meet him and speak Spanish. You could compliment his accent and I could demand a refund on account of him not being Shakira. What do you say?”

Gerard stares at Brendon for a second, and then his coffee, and then Brendon again, trying to process the information. He says, before he can change his mind, “Um. Sure?” 

“Awesome,” Brendon says, laughing. He gives Gerard the time and the place and smiles some more and leaves.

“Fuck,” Gerard mutters to himself.

: :

“‘Fuck _yes_ ,’ you meant,” Frank explains when Gerard sees him later that day and explains to him his predicament. 

“No, no, I didn’t!” Gerard exclaims. “This is terrible. This is like a date only that it’s not and I’m screwed because he’s going to hate me.”

“You’ve known him for months now. If he was going to hate you by now, he already would. And then he wouldn’t have invited you at all.”

“I’m going to get stood up,” Gerard groans, and then realizes, “I sound like one of my students, oh my God.” Frank just laughs some more, gives Gerard a pat on the back, and assures him that he’s just over-thinking things. 

: :

Brendon outside of school is a lot like Brendon inside of school, only a lot louder, and a lot bouncier, if it were possible. He doesn’t stop talking about how excited he is in line, and then how excited he is in the venue. Through the concert, he sings along to most of the songs. Gerard sings along to some of them, but mostly sits back and acts shy, listening to Brendon’s voice, which stands out distinctly from the others. He listens to the way he rolls his R’s when he’s singing, the way he laughs when he catches Gerard staring. Eventually, when Gerard finally loosens up, he sings along a little more. It’s not like he doesn’t know all the words.

Afterward, they leave the hot, stuffy venue, and Brendon tosses his head back and takes a few deep breaths. It’s a chilly night, but he’s sweating, so he doesn’t much seem to care. He insists on trying to find Juanes. They stand outside, near the buses, shivering for the better part of twenty minutes, until they’re kicked out. Brendon yells obscenities to the guards in Spanish, and just as he promised, demands Shakira. They get a few eye rolls but they don’t care. Gerard stops being self-conscious long enough to yell a few obscenities himself, and they head back to Brendon’s car, laughing loudly. 

After the concert, they go to a Taco Bell and, being Spanish teachers, they discuss for easily fifteen minutes the irony of it. “I feel like we should be encouraging kids not to go here, since it’s not real Mexican food or whatever,” Gerard says.

“Well, yeah. It’s just fake Mexican food with great tacos. We can just sort of focus on their accomplishments, you know? And then be hypocrites and still encourage students not to go.”

“Which means more tacos for us,” Gerard says, laughing. “Good strategy.”

“I try,” Brendon says, and stands up to bow and throw his garbage away.

Gerard just sort of sits there awkwardly and waits.

Brendon drives Gerard back home afterward, and for a brief, cliche moment, they sit in the car and stare at each other. Before anything else can happen, Gerard sort of stumbles out of the car, gives Brendon a lopsided smile, and thanks him. He mutters something about paying him back, and thanks him again, and stands for another second before shaking his head, shutting the door, and rushing inside.

If things were unfavorable for him before, they’re hopeless now.

: :

For the next few days, Gerard tries his hardest to avoid Brendon, even though there’s no real reason to, beyond his embarrassment from the night of the concert. He spends a lot of time with Frank, or the other language teachers. When he’s desperate, he tries to, more or less, beg his students to need extra help (“Are you _sure_ you understand? Really sure? Positive?”).

He does well for the first few days, until Frank stops hanging out with him. (“You’re using me as a shield because you’re a _scaredy cat_. It needs to stop, and you need to talk to him.”) And then Brendon starts showing up everywhere--seriously, _everywhere_ \--and it feels like he’s being stalked, like Brendon is begging his own students _not_ to need extra help. 

Even so, Gerard does what he can to stay busy. He starts planning a field trip to the first Spanish-speaking Mexican restaurant he can come up with that isn’t Taco Bell, and he gets kind of cornered by Brendon in the language office one afternoon. He’s glaring at Gerard, who suddenly wants to curl up and hide in the corner. He walks right up next to him, still glaring, and pokes him in the chest. He states, “Gerard Way, I _cannot_ believe you would try to plan a field trip to Qdoba’s without me.”

Gerard blinks, eyes wide, and takes a step back. He says, mind suddenly clouded with guilt, “Sorry, sorry, I know. I should have told you. If it’s worth anything, there’s still time for you to have one of your classes come with. I’m taking my year one students so they can practice ordering food or whatever. Spice things up some. Also, bulk discounts, you know.”

“I want discounts,” Brendon says with a pout, and then, “Count me in. I’ll pull my paperwork together. Just email me the date and all that. I love Mexican food--I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner.”

“Yeah, I know,” Gerard replies. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. I have to run, but seriously, email me the info tonight so I have time to put it all together!” He spins around and starts walking to the door. He waves on his way out, shouts “Thanks!” unnecessarily loud, and it’s not until the door shuts that Gerard manages to mutter a meager, “You’re welcome.”

: :

Gerard emails Brendon all of the information, as promised. Brendon emails back twenty-seven minutes later with a lot of exclamation points and smiley faces and a P.S. with a link to a flash video about a Spanish-speaking scarf. Gerard rolls his eyes fondly and replies to it with his own link, one to the new Shakira music video.

: :

Brendon, the next day, comes in shaking his hips some more and bursts into song shortly afterwords, singing intentionally out of tune, “ _Cuando menos piensas, ¡sale el sooooooool!_ ”

Gerard sees this as mission accomplished. 

: :

The field trip takes place exactly a month later, on a bright April afternoon. They walk to the restaurant because it’s nearby and walking is, like, a million times cheaper than renting buses. The students are content because they get to leave school for an afternoon and eat cheap Mexican food along the way.

The walk is pleasant. Every now and again, when the students start to get a little too loud and rowdy, Gerard makes some comment about how everyone needs to speak Spanish and stuff and he laughs at the request almost as much as the students. He insists, though, that anyone who doesn’t order their food in Spanish will be promptly expelled. He’s a terrible liar.

They have a third teacher accompanying them, which means Brendon gets the opportunity to leave his spot in the back of the line and make his way up to the front, to Gerard, and walk to the restaurant with him. He sings more out of tune Spanish songs and rolls his eyes at the kids who laugh at him.

“You guys should be used to this by now,” he insists, and sings a little louder.

At the restaurant, everything goes smoothly. Gerard and Brendon make sure all orders are in Spanish, and they encourage the waiters to deny giving food to the kids who give up and speak English. Everyone gets settled down, and they get their food, and they’re content. 

Brendon and Gerard take their seats first, and a couple of Brendon’s students insist on sitting next to them, giggling and making smalltalk about “That one time I heard Spanish” and “That other time I heard Spanish” and “Oh yeah! Spanish!” Gerard can tell they’re kind of googly-eyed over Brendon, so he intentionally gets up a few times to refill his drink or use the bathroom. Brendon gives him this _look_ every time, and Gerard finds it quite hilarious.

He says on their walk back, “You seem to be quite the Don Juan with the ladies.” 

“Yes,” Brendon confirms, stifling his laughter. “Quite the Tenorio."

Everybody sees the two of them giggling but no one mentions how ridiculous they look, not even when Brendon slings an arm around Gerard’s shoulder and Gerard’s cheeks turn a bright shade of red. The students possibly start giggling themselves, a little more than they were before, but they don’t say anything, for which Gerard is grateful. 

: : 

Gerard is on his way home from school one afternoon when he passes a garage sale. And then, because he’s a sucker for cheap stuff, he parks his car and decides to check it out. And then, because he always feels guilty going to a garage sale and not buying anything, he purchases a fish tank for three dollars.

From then on, it’s like _If You Give a Mouse a Cookie_ , because you can’t have a fish tank without any fish. So, from the garage sale, he spends, like, an hour getting lost on his way to his local pet store. He stops for coffee, googles the directions on his phone, and finally makes it there. He buys three beta fish, because one fish would be lonely on its own, and once he buys two, the third one comes free. They’re gold, black, and spotted, and they’re kind of adorable.

He goes home and cleans his fish tank and puts them in and sits and makes fishy faces at them as he grades some homework. He asks them a few times, “Why did she put that as an answer?” and, “Why can’t you guys teach them for me?” and he realizes that he maybe just found his classroom some class pets. 

He brings them in super carefully the next day, wondering why he brought the tank full of water and didn’t just empty it and put the fish in a bag and set it all up after he arrives. He rolls his eyes at himself and swears under his breath and toddles to his classroom, the tank feeling heavier with every step he takes.

He gets it set up and the students are kind of in love.

He gives three of his classes (years one, three, and five) permission to name the fish. Each class comes up with their own list of Spanish-related names, and then they all vote. He uses this as an opportunity to teach them a lot of random words, like _poll_ and _tank_ and _majority rules_. Year one names their fish Churro, year three names theirs Mierda, and year five names theirs Quijote.

Gerard just sort of grins.

: :

The weather begins to warm up even more, and Gerard soon realizes that the A.P. tests are getting closer, and he can tell his A.P. class is feeling the stress. He has only the utmost confidence in them, but they have no confidence in themselves, so he starts to scrape together some A.P. test-related activities. 

He makes everyone write their practice essays with Spanish pseudonyms and then they grade each other. He insists the pseudonyms are to be able to grade each other’s papers without bias, but it’s mostly to keep things lively. A student asks him what his pseudonym would be if he had to pick one, and he thinks long and hard before replying, “ _Pato_.”

He gets a chorus of laughter and a lot of _What?_ ’s, and he sort of just shrugs, sparing them (or maybe just himself) the embarrassing story of how the nickname came to exist, the one with his brother, a pond, several ducks, and a very ridiculous evening. No one asks him, and he thinks it’s for the better. He keeps quiet and the students go on to write some impressive essays. 

: :

“ _Pato_ ,” Brendon says the next day at lunch, not bothering to stifle his laughter. “Why?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Gerard groans, and then wonders out loud how Brendon knew about it, anyway.

“I don’t know how you expect anything to say silent in this school,” Brendon replies with a shrug. “I guess one of your students is friends with one of mine. Either way, it’s funny, and I’m calling you that forever.”

“Oh my God,” Gerard says, and rolls his eyes.

“ _Pato, pato, pato_ ,” Brendon says. He hums to himself and goes on, “ _Patito, patico, patillo_...I like it.” Gerard turns bright red. 

Brendon beams.

: :

In his past years of teaching, Gerard never had to worry about cheating. He either had really perfect students or he was just really good at pretending not to notice. Considering his students were absolutely _not_ perfect, he realizes now who was to blame. 

One day, at his current school, he _does_ catch someone cheating. It’s not even subtle, which Gerard thinks is kind of embarrassing. When he was a student in middle school and even for a little while in high school, he managed to become an expert cheater. He basically turned it into an art. He knows he could catch any cheater, but he doesn’t _want_ to yell at his students, so he trained himself (accidentally, he thinks) not to notice them. 

But really, this kid manages to catch Gerard’s attention not five minutes into the test. Under his copy, he has the bright green study guide Gerard made the class a few days before.

(Gerard intentionally makes most of his papers bright, borderline obnoxious colors. Pinks, greens, purples, blues--the brighter, the better. That way he knows whether or not students are working on them or something else--like homework for another class--and knows whether they’re, you know, cheating.)

The student’s study guide is tucked under his test and he keeps glancing at it and Gerard just doesn’t know what to _do_. He’s standing probably three feet away from the student and it’s so _obvious_ that he’s wondering if this is some sick joke. And before he realizes it, he’s sort of flapping his arms awkwardly and shouting nearly at the top of his lungs, “Cheater! Cheater! _Cheater!_ ”

All of a sudden, every student is looking up at Gerard, and quickly glancing around for the cheating student. It doesn’t take long to find him because he’s bright red and his study guide is sitting right out on the desk now. He’s also one of _those_ kids, Gerard knows--the kind you would sort of expect to cheat. The students all realize and there’s no stopping that.

“Um--uh, back to your tests, you guys,” Gerard says, trying hard to still sound authoritative, even though he’s probably more embarrassed than the student himself. He picks up the student’s test and study guide, which is packed to the brim with all of their vocab words and grammar notes. He shakes his head a couple of times and says, “Get up,” to the kid, knowing he has to bring him to the office now.

He’s walking to the door when Brendon pops up, trying to look serious as he says, “It sounds to me like you’ve found a cheater.” He looks at the kid and says, “I’m taking it he’s the culprit?”

“The very one,” Gerard says, and hopes by now that the kid, as well as the entire class, knows to never ever cheat again. He tells Brendon, “I’ve got to run him down to the office. Can you watch my class for a minute?”

“You mean shout at any other kids that try to get by with cheating?” Brendon says, no longer concealing his giggles.

“Do what you have to do,” Gerard says, saluting him as he simultaneously rolls his eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

: :

Gerard’s favorite word in Spanish (which changes probably every other week--though he keeps a list that he likes to rank every now and again) would have to be _estadounidense_. He likes the fact that Spanish speakers have an adjective for Americans from the United States (as opposed to Americans from, you know, South America--or North--or Central) when even Americans themselves don’t. He thinks it’s very respectful, and maybe even clever. It makes him feel less self-centered to use, and frequently wishes an a word to its equivalent existed in English. 

Also, it’s very fun to say.

He shares this with Brendon one day, who says, “I’ve _always_ thought that,” and beams. He goes on to announce his own favorite word in Spanish, exclaiming, “ _Pato_! There’s just something about that word that resonates with me.”

Gerard says, “Oh my God,” and punches Brendon’s shoulder. Brendon doesn’t hesitate to gently punch him back and smile even wider.

: :

It gets to be late in the year, and the students are becoming more restless than Gerard thought possible. Even worse is that he’s becoming restless himself. It’s a bright, warm, perfect day out, and everyone--seriously, including himself--keeps staring out the window, wondering vaguely to themselves when the day is going to end. (For the students, a lot earlier than Gerard. This is something he exploits as a tool for eliciting sympathy now and again.)

He’s trying to get one of his higher classes to work on description and creative writing, something that teachers never seem to teach in Spanish, despite its importance. He says, “Pick something in the room and write a one-page description of it, or use it as a prompt for a one-and-a-half page story.” (He thinks description is a lot harder than dialogue, and the students clearly agree, because as he strolls around the room, no one seems to have picked the first prompt.)

The kids are still antsy though, and after ten minutes, no one has gotten more than two sentences down. He mutters to himself something about going outside to do this, and doesn’t expect to get a room of twenty students shouting and begging him, “ _¡Por favor, Señor! ¡Por favor!_ ”

So, they end up sitting in the middle of the football field at a quarter to two, writing their papers. Gerard has to give an obligatory lecture, explaining that he needs to see every paper at least halfway done today. He doesn’t mind having students finish them for homework, but if they can’t write _something_ today, he’ll consider never letting them go outside again, which is something he doesn’t want to have to do.

Fortunately for him, the students do manage to do a solid thirty minutes of writing before they all start to gradually slow down and eventually start up conversations with their friends and pull out their phones. There are only ten minutes left at this point, which isn’t terrible, so he doesn’t yell or anything. He gets into a side conversation himself with one of his students about the Spanish soap operas on TV--which are sort of his guilty pleasure--and almost doesn’t realize that the day has ended.

He dismisses his students, reminding them that their papers are due tomorrow (and knowing very well that there will be a solid five people who won’t have theirs because their headphones are already on and, as he’s learned, will not come back off for anything less than the end of the world). He stands up himself, stretches, grabs his things, and heads back inside to, you know, keep being a teacher for another million hours.

: :

Gerard has to meet up with Principal Wentz near the end of the year to review his progress. He gets told it’s protocol and blah, blah, blah, but in the days leading up to the meeting, he manages to convince himself that this is the beginning of the end. Brendon reassures him more than once that he had to go through the same spiel and it went fine because the principal is _awesome_. And Gerard knows this, but when he’s convinced he’s going to get fired, it doesn’t much matter. His students, when he mentions the meeting in passing, _insist_ he’ll do fine, because they kind of like him ridiculously. He loves them, and his job, but also knows that his students probably aren’t right and he’s going to get _fired_.

But then he gets into the meeting and Wentz announces, “I don’t even have to look at the statistics to know that things are doing better with you here. Between you and Brendon and Frank and all you guys, things are getting _so_ much better.”

“Yeah?” Gerard asks hopefully, realizing that maybe he won’t get fired.

“Absolutely,” Wentz replies. “You had doubts?”

“Maybe a few. I’m not the most conventional teacher and--”

“--And we are?” 

“Touché.”

Wentz reclines in his chair some and flips through a couple papers on his desk saying, “All I can say is that you’ve already become a valuable worker here. Students love you, and so do the other teachers. Grades have risen, like, a lot, already. Everyone has good things to say about you. You pass all the requirements and shit, and all I can hope is that you’re willing to sign on again for next year.”

Before he can say anything else, Gerard declares, “Absolutely. That shouldn’t even be a question. I like it here.”

“And we like having you here,” Wentz says proudly, and grins. He talks with Gerard for a couple more minutes about this and that, and then he does some paperwork, and finally he sends Gerard on his way. 

: :

Finals week arrives before Gerard realizes it. It’s calmer than he anticipated because it’s just a lot of review. Sure, the review is accompanied with a lot of students coming after school, trying to learn a year’s worth of work in seven days, but he’s used to that, after three years of it. 

He and Brendon team up to do some big group review lessons for about half an hour after school every day that week, and the students seem to appreciate it. They get probably twenty to thirty kids each day, all needing different review. 

They split all the kids up into groups by what year of Spanish they’re in, and have the students help each other as they circle around to help students individually. They do some group reviews over the basics-- _por_ and _para_ , _ser_ and _estar_ \--all the things that need review no matter how many years of Spanish a student has taken. They keep the windows and blinds open, and Brendon has his Spanish playlist on shuffle each day, and it doesn’t even feel like they’re working. 

After all of that, they finish up any grading they have to do--all of that schoolwork nonsense. They get it _all_ out of the way, and then they go out and do something else. One night they go bowling, another night to a movie. On Friday they go to the bar and Brendon gets kind of drunk and Gerard, sober as can be, tries to ignore how touchy Brendon is when he’s drunk and how he says random things like “You’re so cute,” and “I’ve always liked you.” And he drives Brendon home and goes home himself and wonders for a really long time if he meant it and he wonders why he didn’t say that he liked Brendon too and wonders what he’s going to do on Monday. He falls asleep just sort of _wondering_ and spends the weekend doing about the same.

: :

The weekend finally ends, and finals week hits right away. The schedule is insanely weird, but Gerard does what he can to manage with it. He has almost no time to wonder about Brendon, because he has a stack of ten million papers to grade. It’s essentially his worst nightmare, but the students do generally well. 

Patrick gets an A and Gerard just kind of _knew_ it. And Gabe gets a C+ which isn’t, like, bad for him. He grades a million papers and there ends up being a pleasantly low number of bad grades. He’s proud of all of his students and even proud of himself for actually teaching them something. 

On the last day of school he hands back all the finals, along with a lot of congratulations. And a lot of students say nice things about him and he just wants to blush and think about how great his students are. 

He sees Brendon at lunch, like always, who asks, grinning, “Do you know what the best thing about teaching is? Besides the rewards of giving out knowledge and all of that bullshit.”

Gerard does his best to act sane and says, “Hmm, I don’t know. What?”

Brendon grins wider and states, “June, July, and August.” Gerard laughs, and it’s very genuine and he's feeling increasingly less nervous. 

"Good point," he says.

" _Great_ point," Brendon clarifies. He says, after a short moment of silence, "So, I bought Shakira tickets last night. She’s going to be here in July. It's a great month, and a great concert, and I was thinking of cheesily asking a great person to go with me."

" _Brendon_ ," Gerard says, fighting the nerves that suddenly returned along with the impending urge to jump to conclusions. "I don't think you can invite Shakira to her own concert." 

Brendon hits Gerard’s arm hard and says, "You asshole! You know what I meant. I'm inviting _you_ to Shakira. Do you realize how honored you should be right now?"

Gerard just kind of nods a few times and says, "Very."

Frank picks this time to walk into the room. He winks at Brendon who just sort of not-so-subtly nods back and says, "This wasn't his idea."

"It was totally my idea," Frank says, setting a few papers down on the table. "The Shakira thing. Not the asking you out thing."

"Yeah," Brendon says. "I was told you thought I liked Shakira more than you."

"You weren't supposed to know I said that," Gerard chokes out.

" _Nothing_ stays silent at this school. I already told you. Now, do you want to go with me to Shakira or not?"

Gerard swallows hard and asks, "On--like, on a date?"

Immediately, Brendon rolls his eyes and throws his arms in the air before hitting Gerard again and exclaiming, " _Yes_! On a date! With you! To see Shakira! Do I have to _pedírtelo en español_?"

"Um," Gerard says, " _¿posiblemente?_ " Brendon just kind of laughs awkwardly, and he's suddenly looking just as nervous as Gerard feels. So, to spare the both of them another hour of discomfort, Gerard says, "Of course I'll go _contigo_. I'll demand Juanes afterwards and everything."

Brendon beams and jumps up out of his seat and hugs Gerard tight and repeats, " _Gracias, gracias, gracias_ ," like it's the only word he knows. Frank rolls his eyes fondly from across the room, and Gerard knows that there's at least one student that's walking by the window at this point that will make sure the entire school knows about this moment before the day ends.

Gerard tells Brendon, " _De nada_ ," hugs back, and doesn't really care.


End file.
